


at the core of it

by daneorange (adreamaloud)



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-11
Updated: 2009-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That prospect of unfeeling, so infinitely attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at the core of it

Perhaps, to have expected the affair to last that long – at the very least, through the summer – may have been a bit too much an expectation, as they were both too young to safely hold hearts in their hands; to expect such hands to have firm grips.

But then it was a time when all hope came as all or nothing; it’s either everything or none at all, at once. There is little wisdom in that, as in all young romances, doomed to end before any of it really began. For some reason though, Emily has somewhat tricked herself into believing that miracles do happen once in a while, that something can come through despite all discouragement and against better advice.

And so Emily hoped.

(Even then, the question invariably is, what to do with a thing like that -- a thing that couldn’t even have lasted but does? Not that she has such a question to contend with, anyhow.)

*

Naomi comes to her senses about a couple of weeks later, fucks off to Cyprus as originally planned, without so much of an explanation, other than, “I can’t do this.”

It takes Emily three days to feel the full brunt of it. It starts with a dull thud on the underside of her chest, and climaxes with a searing sensation that feels like it’s cutting her in half. Somewhere along the way, something even gathers up the shreds, balls them up tightly and lodges the sorry mass of it somewhere down her throat, and she can’t bring herself to breathe without hurting herself.

Katie doesn’t ask; the fact that she does see Emily around is enough explanation. She curses under her breath in the afternoons, shoving tissues wordlessly Emily’s way, but at night Katie lets Emily crawl in beside her anyway, tries her best to put her to sleep without having to be asked.

Naomi doesn’t write; each day her inbox is empty, it flays Emily’s heart a little, a thin film of skin removed around the thing, and it’s only on Day 12 that Emily succeeds in abandoning such expectations. Emily sees her heart a solid compact thing at the core, once all the painful layers have been stripped away with every day.

Emily thinks she’s well on her way to invincibility. _After this_ , she tells herself, _after this, nothing will ever hurt._

Ever again, nothing. At the time, it doesn’t strike her as particularly alarming, that prospect of unfeeling being so infinitely attractive.

*

When Emily sees her again, it’s months later, at college. Naomi’s hair is long, longer than Emily is actually comfortable with, but it’s not like she’s in any position to suggest something akin to a haircut. She catches Naomi’s eye on first day assembly; Katie elbows her painfully when she catches them, and Emily looks away, abruptly.

She spends all day trying not to think about Naomi’s half frown, in that brief moment she had looked at her.

Emily tries really hard.

*

Naomi corners her with her apology one day, in the girls’ lavatory, at the edge of lunch time. She says sorry she was a cunt; sorry she ran off in the middle of things, even when they had honestly looked like they were progressing. Naomi admits being scared – even more so when it all seemed to be _working_.

“What is it,” Emily asks, gritting her teeth through the anger that has simmered in her all this while. “What is it about functional things that scare you?”

Naomi’s face is ghost white; it shows how she hasn’t planned anything past this apology. She swallows after a long while, seemingly catching herself. “Well you know how it is,” she begins, uncertainly. “Once it starts, it has to end. That’s how everything is.”

Emily blinks. In her chest, her heart feels starkly solid and unmoving. “Fine then,” she says. “If that’s how you want it.” Somewhere, a bell rings. Emily pushes past Naomi, goes through the door and does not look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Emily, heartbreak and an old what-if.


End file.
